Brotherly love.

I’ve decided that i’m not writing any more love stories. they’re unimportant. well, i have one i have to pull from my heart’s archives, but that’s it. instead, we’re shifting & I’m writing this loving piece about a part of my heart no one knows about.

mi hermano. my brother. my love. did you guys even know i had a brother? maybe not. he’s the first person to show me how much hearts can expand. & that our hearts can thrive in another’s body.

from being equally obsessed with everything Michael Jackson. how many times did we watch the Jackson 5 movie and that DVD with all of the Michael Jackson videos? definition of obsession. US. RIP to the king. omg to my brother too. wtf bro. From playing application. almost killing ourselves daily. riding a skateboard into ongoing traffic in the hills of San Diego. a built-in best friend who i forced to play Barbie with me regularly. & we always shared our birthday parties. technically, i wasn’t even a whole year older than him. we were the same age for 7 days. irish twins.

honestly, i keep this buried deep in my bones, but a little part of me feels like his death was my fault seven years ago. logically, i know this isn’t true. my heart is where i hold and hide the guilt. i was more than his big sister. i was his mom. i got him ready for school. made sure he did his homework. talked to his teachers. cooked for him. cleaned behind him. i made him my responsibility in second grade because that’s what big sisters do. my mom was sick & an alcoholic & she simply didn’t have the wherewithal for motherhood every day, but i did. again, because that’s what silent heroes aka big sisters do. he was so smart & i wanted to see that blossom. even if that meant holding his hand along the way.

alternatively, i was also jealous of Victor. he was my mom’s favorite child. why? because he was a man child. he represented unconditional love from a man. even if he was her son. isn’t that what most women want? but i was simply a reflection of her & she wasn’t too fond of herself.

one day, i moved to chicago. & left my brother. well, i didn’t move. i was stranded. abandoned. left to live with a stranger. a bachelor. my father. & i transitioned from being a caretaker to a kid right before i turned 13. we lived in a nice house. it looked like the Brady bunch house. middle-class life. great friends. crush on the boy next door. i got a car when i was 16. another at 18. homecoming queen. dance team. i got to have teenage problems and attitudes because I wasn’t responsible for everyone around me. what a blessed life.

meanwhile, my brother. or should i say my child was failing. Stuck in poverty lane. he wasn’t barely making it by, he wasn’t making it at all. heartbroken from separation & lost without his guide. his big sister. now he had to face the rage of his drunken mother alone. i wasn’t there to protect him or serve as her punching bag so that he could be the golden boy. he didn’t graduate. he was in and out of jail. kicked out of school. joined a gang. & simply became a menace to society. or should i say statistic? we stopped talking. he hated me. & now he was jealous of me because I was living a life he only watch through broken windows. & saw glimpses of a memory when he had a similar life. in foster care. his rage made me stay clear of him. & the last time i saw him, he still had rage in his eyes and cut me with every word. 2 years before he died. my last image of him.

i remember shortly after i left him, i asked my dad if I could go home because my brother needed me. he told me it wasn’t my responsibility. because i was just a kid. but i felt so bad. & 20 years later, I still feel so bad. what if I never left him? & guided him. & protected him. maybe he could have gone to college too instead of being murdered. maybe i wouldn’t be where i am today, but he would be alive. he could’ve had a life too. i know it wasn’t my responsibility, but he was my little brother & i made him my responsibility. he was the first person I took care of & showed me how selfless my love could be for another person. i love taking of care of people.

so here’s a picture of me with my brother. he didn’t come to most of my life’s events, but he was really happy for me when I won a beauty pageant. he was so proud. I’ll never forget that day.

& i want to end this by saying, if you’re one of my male friends who may also be one of my brothers. thank you for being my brother. I love you. Your friendship has always filled a part of my heart you never knew about. A guy i dated recently asked my why i love little black boys so much, and I told him it’s because I have a brother. so take care of your boys. love them. I love you. here’s some photos of cute little black boys in my life who let me love them.